My blood pressure rises, and I hope to all things holy she didn’t catch wind of what happened between Gavin and me because I’d literally die. “Oh really?”
I try to play it cool, but I’m actually crumpling as my heart rate rushes.
“So, I was at my quilting club meeting and was chattin’ with Rebecca Blanchard. She mentioned the rodeo was coming to town in a few months, which we all know is typically a big deal and brings lots of business to the B&B. But she also mentioned something else.”
My palms are sweaty, and my mouth goes dry. Any time someone mentions the word rodeo around here, Gavin’s name comes soon after. I nearly stop breathing as I wait, and the anticipation might kill me. Grandma eats it up as I wait. Sometimes she’s so dramatic.
“Come on, just go ahead and spit it out,” I finally say, the dramatic pause being too much.
“Maize Grace! Watch your manners. This is my story, and I tell it how I want.” She gives me the evil eye, then goes back to being nice granny. “Anyway. Rebecca told me about the barbecue contest, and she mentioned you should enter your famous smoked brisket. The one you did for the food drive fundraiser last year. It was incredible, Maze, and we all took a vote and believe you could win first place.” Grandma beams as if I already had the trophy.
“You really think I have a chance or are you just saying that?” I ask, nearly laughing that my food was the topic of their conversation at their meeting.
“I can admit I give a bunch of frivolous compliments, but honey, I’d never set you up to humiliate yourself. If your brisket wasn’t worth a lick, I wouldn’t mention it, because I can’t have you embarrassing yourself or the Bishop name,” she confirms with a nod. “You went to that fancy culinary school for a reason. So, you need to enter and kick some ass.”
I burst out laughing. “Grandma, you just said ass.”
“I’m old enough to have earned that right.”
“This is very true.”
She grins at me and places her hand on my shoulder. “The last day to submit the application is Friday, then the judges choose who qualifies to compete. I think the grand prize is five grand, and I know you’ve been wanting to start that little catering business, which I fully support. So I think this could help with startup costs. Even though I’ve offered to fund it, I know how proud and independent you are, just like your dad.”
My whole face lights up thinking about what that money could buy for my business. While Grandma has been super supportive, she’s right. I want to do this on my own. It’s the Bishop way.
“So whatcha think?” she asks, beaming.
“It would be an amazing opportunity. And if you think I have a chance, then heck yes, I’ll do it,” I say, and she wraps me in one of her infamous hugs.
When we break apart, she looks me in the eyes. “Honey, I think you’re a shoo-in to win. Plus, once you start your business, there are tons of ladies at church who want to hire you. They’ve got daughters who are getting married, birthday parties, and holiday events that none of them wanna cook for. Don’t blame ’em, though. It’s easier to have someone else do it these days.”
I snort. “You all deserve to be pampered.”
“I’m no spring chicken anymore. It’s why I love my grandbabies so much. Always willing to help.” Grandma pulls a packet of papers from her giant purse and hands it to me. “Here’s everything you need. Turn this into the Chamber before the deadline.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, flipping through the big packet. “I’ll make sure I fill it out tonight.”
Grandma waves goodbye, and when she’s out of sight, I let out a loud squeal. I’m smiling so wide my face hurts.
Dad rushes into the dining room and looks spooked. “Are you okay? I heard screaming.”
“Fine, just fine! Grandma thinks I should enter the rodeo’s barbecue contest.” I hand the packet to him, and he flips through it.
“So who’s gonna be on your team?” he asks.
My eyes go wide. “Team?”
“Yeah, it says here you have to put a team together and list their names. It has a place for five to ten people.” He gives the papers back to me, and I scan over them.
“Well damn,” I mutter, and he doesn’t correct me. “Um, you wanna help?”
He chuckles. “Of course, as a last resort, though. You should ask your sister, Rowan, Elle, Riley, Zoey, Knox, Kane, and force Diesel to help too. And if they say no–”
“Then I’ll threaten them,” I say.
“If you want, but I was going to say, I’ll get your uncles involved. And either they’ll cook because I’ll tell Mama you need to put together a team, or they’ll force their kids to help.”